


as long as the stars are shining above you

by queenliest (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/queenliest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael comforts you while you are having a bad day. </p><p> </p><p>  <b> [Michael Clifford/Reader] </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	as long as the stars are shining above you

* * *

You were having a bad day. 

It wasn’t just an ordinary bad day, though. You were having an extremely bad day; your heart felt heavy, and you felt extremely exhausted. It was as though your muscles were sore and aching; it was as though you couldn’t move an inch no matter how much you tried to. 

And it wasn’t just all that. 

You felt sad and melancholic and lonely, as though there wasn’t anything anymore that could’ve made you happy. Your heart was feeling a deep ache; it was as if a huge hole had been cut. You felt like you were stabbed in the chest; you felt incomplete. You felt as though you were being consumed by the darkness that you held within you; you felt as though you were being consumed by the darkness that you had tried to keep so long inside yourself. 

The darkness was a tornado and you were its victim. 

\- 

You were currently lying on your bed, motionless and unmoving. Both of your eyes were open, but you were staring into nothingness. You could see the chipping pallid paint on the ceiling, but you weren’t able to recognize anything beyond that. 

You didn’t want to move one bit, didn’t want to move away. You didn’t want to blink, didn’t want to breathe; you didn’t want to eat. Everything was taking a lot out of you; you had no will to move; you had no desire to even do something. 

You were aware that you had been slacking, had been aware that you had lots of things to do. At the back of your mind, there was a nagging thought; at the back of your mind, there were feeling of panic and anxiety building up. But you couldn’t care less about them right now. Right now you didn’t want to move. Right at this moment you didn’t want to breathe. Right now you didn’t want to live. 

Right now you didn’t want to exist. 

You heard the soft sound of a door being opened, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare turn your head to look at who was coming inside your room, didn’t dare look at who had been the one to enter your room. It wasn’t as if you didn’t care—you just couldn’t bring yourself to move. It felt like your body was frozen; it felt as if your body was glued onto the bed. Your body felt heavy, as though you were being pinned down by a heavy brick. The brick had weighed too much for you to even try and succeed to lift the brick off of you. 

“ **(Your Name)** ,” you heard a vaguely familiar voice calling your name. You had recognized it to be Michael’s—your best friend who, in a sequence of events, had finally become your boyfriend—voice. His voice was nearby but distant. It was as if he were there and you were here; it felt as though he were on the other side of the world. It felt as though you were in limbo and he was in the real world. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to the male, couldn’t bring yourself to even inform him that you had heard him. Everything was taking a lot of effort. 

“Hey, **(Your Name)** ,” you heard him repeat your name once more, this time a little more gently. “Are you okay?” 

_Yes. No. I’m just having a bad day._ You had imagined yourself telling him all the words and thoughts that passed through your mind, had imagined telling him everything that had been bothering you. But that had just been an imagination; you couldn’t bring yourself to actually open your mouth and speak, couldn’t bring yourself to slowly nod your head. 

But you were a little lucky—or maybe he had known you too well to be able to guess what your thoughts were. Maybe he had known you a little bit well to guess to where your thoughts had been drifting off. Maybe he had known you a little too well to guess what you had been feeling; maybe he had known you a little bit well to know that you weren’t fine at all. 

“Hey,” he said, his tone sounding a little too gently. It was as though he were talking to a child. You felt a weight shifting on the edge of your bed and a hand touching your forehead. You had briefly guessed that it was Michael sitting on the edge of your bed, maintaining a safe distance from you but at the same time being close enough to hold you. “What happened?” 

You let a frown cross your lips. You wanted to pour your heart out to him, wanted to tell him every single thing that had been bothering you. But you couldn’t. The words had kept dying on your throat. It was hard to speak when everything was taking a lot out of you, making you feel exhausted and fatigued. 

And so, you didn’t answer. 

He must have picked out on how you were feeling; he must have picked out on how it was hard for you to open your mouth to speak and talk. 

“Okay,” he said. You felt him shift again on the bed, felt his body weight come up beside you. You guessed that he was now lying beside you. “I know it’s hard for you to talk. I’m not going to force you to tell me what’s wrong.” 

His voice had sounded too near; it felt as though he were whispering the words directly onto your ear. If you weren’t feeling empty right now, you might have shivered from the contact. If you weren’t feeling as though you were drowning from all the darkness you had within you, you might have felt your stomach being invaded by butterflies. 

“I…” you began, trailing off as soon as you had started. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want to burden him with your problems, didn’t want to burden him with your feelings. He had already done too much for you; he had already sacrificed too much for you; he already had a lot of problems to stress him out and you didn’t want to add to his long list of burdens. 

He turned on his side. One of his hands came to rest on your stomach. He nuzzled his face onto your neck. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m here. I’m here now; I’ll always be here.” 

And that’s when you felt the dam broke. You felt the beginnings of tears slide from the corners of your eyes down to your cheeks. 

“I… I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. You tried to wipe your tears with the back of your hand, but it had proved to be a failure. More tears kept coming. 

He turned you on your side so that you were facing him. He wrapped his arms around you and buried your face against his chest. He began to shush you, whispering little things in your ear and tracing drawing lazy circles on your back. 

“Shh,” he said, shushing you. “You don’t have to speak. It’s okay. I understand. I’ll always understand.” 

You continued to sob, continued to let everything all out. You couldn’t stop the tears no matter how much you wanted to, couldn’t stop the tears no matter how much you willed them to. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed against his chest. “I can’t seem to stop crying.” 

“It’s okay,” he said again. “I love you. I love you. I won’t leave you. I promise you I’ll never leave.” He continued to draw circles on your back, continued trying to calm you down. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated as though he were a broken record stuck on playing the same music over and over again. His voice was a whisper—gentle and relaxing. 

After a few long moments, the tears had stopped. Michael hadn’t once stopped telling you that he loved you; he hadn’t once stopped you telling you how he felt about you, hadn’t once stopped telling you how much he loved you. 

You had let a few long moments of silence pass, had let a few moments of silence as the calm and tranquillity slowly overtook your body. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, pulling away slightly against his chest so that you were sure he could hear you. Your voice was different—it had sounded too nasal for your liking, had sounded too nasal from all the crying you had just done. 

“It’s okay,” he said. He pulled you closer to him, and you buried your face in his chest once more, wallowing in the scent he was giving off. 

“Whenever you’re sad,” he continued, never once stopping to trace circles on your lower back. “Remember that I love you so much and I will pull the galaxies down for you. I’d do anything just to make you feel a little better. I love you; I love you so much I’d do anything and everything for you.” 

“Thank you,” you said, nuzzling your face against his chest. “I love you, too.” 

You felt him hum an approval toward your words, felt him plant a kiss on your hair. 

“I love you,” he said. 

You closed your eyes, and let his wonderful scent dull your senses. You were awashed with his scent, and you slowly found yourself drifting toward the land of dreams. 

\- 


End file.
